Of Peach Pie and a Last Will & Testament

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Yesterday I baked a fresh peach pie.

And Josh wrote up our will.

Our siblings refer to us as Grandpa & Grandma.  They’re not wrong.

For the record we are 26 & 28 respectively.  We fancy ourselves a responsible, organized couple and I’d figured we’d do all the will-related stuff whenever we take our first big trip sans-Little Hugo, but no, the other night Josh was at the kitchen table typing away and was like “Hey babe! I just finished our will, do you want to look this over?”

I was more than a little tickled.  Not only is he cute and funny, he’s smart too.  My natural tendency is always to procrastinate (due to analysis paralysis) but Josh is a “man of action” as he always reminds me.  And maybe a little paranoid, did I ever tell you about how after he proposed and we were walking back to the car, literally the first thing he said to me was “Don’t worry, your ring is insured!”.  I love him.

Anyway, it’s the height of summer and fresh produce and stone fruits and Georgia peaches and I was in the mood to bake a pie.  Since pie should be shared and the will required some witnesses,  we invited the brother and sister-in-law over after dinner.  Then I contemplated wearing a classic black dress for the whole deal, it seemed appropriate.  Just kidding!

Back to the pie…

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I always use the queen, Martha Stewart’s Pate Brisee dough.  It requires digging out your food processor, but worth it.  I used Cup 4 Cup gluten-free flour and it came out tender and flaky, I was so pleased that I mentioned it over breakfast (I’m sorry I have a problem, I think about food.  A lot.) and Josh was like “What? That was gluten-free?”.  Yes.

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For the filling, I mixed up Martha’s fruit pie chart with a few modifications.  I went with the lighter sugar amount since the peaches were at peak, I’d forgotten lemons at the grocery and found a lime in the fridge, so there ya go (sorry) and I prefer cinnamon to ginger so I added a generous sprinkle of that.  I omitted the extra butter pats since the crust has two sticks and brushed the top with a little half-and half and sugar for texture.  I baked for 10 minutes at 400 and then 50 minutes at 375.

Don’t forget the golden rule of pastry, “Work cold, bake hot!”

Yall, it was so good!

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Now there’s half a pie in my fridge, taunting me.  Darn it, it belongs with my morning coffee, but I’m holding out for later and it’s time for my Friday deep clean of the apartment anyway.  So, back to that responsible and organized adult thing…

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